


One last light in the dark.

by Rogue1987



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Arguing, Competition, Complicated Relationships, Eventual Happy Ending, FIFA World Cup 2018, Friends With Benefits, Heartbreak, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining, Team Dynamics, Texting, sad leo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-05-27 08:30:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15020687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogue1987/pseuds/Rogue1987
Summary: Leo and Cristiano have been sort of friends with benefits since the Balon d'Or gala five years ago. However when Leo started to develop stronger feelings for the flouncy Portuguese he decided to break it off, not wanting to get his heart broken.He knew that their liaisons hadn't meant anything to Cristiano, but they had left him one heaping mess of a man. And then the Iceland game came, wrecking him ten times over.After the game Leo receives a rather curious text messages from an unknown number and he's dead set on figuring out who it's from.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [One last light in the dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15238062) by [kotokoshka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kotokoshka/pseuds/kotokoshka)



> This has been in my head since the Iceland game, so I finally decided to write it. 
> 
> Possible second chapter after what happened at the Croatia game. Or maybe something from Cris POV.  
> Let me know if you like more chapters!
> 
> Oh and Masche is Javier Mascherano obviously. Gonzalo Higuain is called Pipita.

_June 16th. Russia._

 

 

 

 _Iceland_. Freaking Iceland. A mystical country of ice, snow, the northern light and few people, all of them called Sigurdsson or something of the sort and that was about all that Leo knew about it. Or wanted to know about it.  
Leo hadn't been there and after today he decided to never set a foot on Icelandic soil.  
He would be mocked and scolded all over the island. Laughed at for being the loser who missed a penalty against a man who isn't even a professional goalie, but a moviemaker.  
Just when Leo had thought his life couldn't be more of a mess, this game had pulled him into the even darker circles of hell. He was half expecting Lucifer to pop up right around the corner. What the fuck had happened to his life?

The game was a complete and utter _disaster_. They lost two points against tiny Iceland. Brave Iceland with Viking looking players who fought for each centimetre but still, _Iceland_. For Leo and Argentina, it had felt like losing, for Iceland it was like winning.  
The outcome was impossible and yet it had happened. Because of Leo missing his penalty. The goalie had apparently done his homework.

When Leo was back into the dressing room he threw off his armband, furiously casting it aside, glaring at it as if it was a cursed object. And sometimes it genuinely felt like that. Deep down he loathed the fucking thing and wanted to see it back on Masche's shoulder.  
It didn't suit him. Didn't work for him. How was he supposed to carry his entire country on his shoulders _and_ lead his teammates at the same time? He couldn't do it, shouldn't have to do it. He wasn't strong like other star players were.

He and Argentina had a complex relationship. He loved his country but deep down he knew he should have stayed away after he had retired two years ago. He had come back out of obligation, not because he wanted to.  
And now that he saw his teammates look to him for even the tiniest things he regretted returning. They seemed to be forgetting their own talent.  
They played entirely around Leo, afraid to shoot themselves, worried that Leo might scold them if they skipped him. Which he wouldn't, in fact, he would applaud them for it.

Cristiano's hattrick against Spain hadn't exactly helped his nerves either. He knew his country expected him to be better than Cristiano, better than Maradona, but he always managed to fail them and crush their dreams.  
He wasn't strong or built for captaincy like Cristiano or charismatic as Maradona had been.  
Leo was just an awkward, semi-autistic guy who did what he could. He knew that if you asked sixty per cent of the world who they thought was the best player, they would answer with his name, but that wasn't the case in Argentina.  
In Argentina, _everything_ revolved around Maradona.  
As long as Leo hadn't won a world cup, it would always be Maradona. Leo hated his life. He wanted to hide away in a dark corner of the world and sleep for the next hundred years.

But he couldn't, because as captain, it was his job to comfort his teammates, to step up and be a leader. But the problem was that Leo wasn't a born leader.  
When he sat in the dressing room after the game, it was Masche who once again was addressing their broken teammates, while Leo sat beside Kun, trapped inside of his own misery.

Kun had an arm draped loosely around his shoulder, knowing that Leo needed his space but craved for some contact at the same time. Kun, who knew him better and longer than anyone else in the world, always knew just what he needed.  
He didn't say anything, knowing that Leo would be too grumpy to talk, he simply sat there, like a silent, shadowy companion.  
Kun was his rock, whenever there was something wrong in Leo's life he always turned to him.  
It had been Kun who had persuaded him to return to the national team, and right now Leo secretly wanted to kick him for it. But he couldn't, Kun deserved more from him. He was loyal to a fault.

Leo's phone kept chiming in his pocket, but he ignored it. The world could wait. He didn't want to read sympathy messages from his Barcelona teammates, his friends or his family. When he was in deep like this he usually never replied until a day afterwards, sometimes even longer. He would succumb to his grief, trapped inside of his own exhausted mind. Kun didn't tell him that it wasn't his fault, no one did, which was a good thing because they would be wrong. It was Leo's fault and the world would roast him and laugh at him for a while because of this. He was a joke. _Pathetic_. He wondered if he looked as empty as he felt.

And the Croatia game was right around the corner, now that one really worried Leo, especially after their game today. Croatia was ten times stronger than Iceland was and their best player, Luka Modric, was in the form of his life. He would be out for Argentine blood. Leo knew that they had to expect another draw or maybe even worse. Not scoring this penalty against Iceland could cost them the next round, he was painfully aware of that.  
But wasn't sure on how to fix it. You couldn't just make your team perform with the wave of a magic wand.  
Not when they all looked at you to do everything for them and you were dog tired.

The phone buzzed again in his tracksuit and he grumbled irritated. ''Just look, I know you want to,'' Kun groaned, unable to hide the sharp, accusative tone in his voice. So even Kun resented him. It was too much.

Luckily for him, Sampaoli had finished his speech ( not that Leo had heard a single word ) and ordered them to gather their belongings and return to the bus. Leo, anxious about seeing Argentine fans stand by the bus, felt bile rise in his throat and quickly ran into the toilet where he threw up mostly water and the remains of a sports drink. His shoulders were bucking erratically and he felt tears stream down his cheeks.  
He didn't want to face them. Didn't want to feel their hate, their spite, their resentment. He didn't need them to tell him he'd failed, he knew that perfectly well. Cold fear took hold of him and the knock on the door scared the shit out of him. ''Leo? It's me,'' Masche called out, voice soft and warm. ''Let me in,''

Leo obliged before he had determined if he truly wanted to see his old Barcelona teammate. He trusted Mascherano with his life, he always knew just how to comfort Leo after games like these. He unlocked the door with a shaky hand and his old friend slid the door open. ''Oh Christ,'' he exhaled. ''Oh buddy, what has the world done to you?''

Leo shook his head furiously. ''Nothing, I did this to myself Masche, you know that. I'm a failure,''  
Masche collected Leo off the floor and hauled him to his feet, wiping his tears away with a tissue, as well as the corners of his mouth. ''You're not a failure. You can never be. This wasn't on you,''

Leo didn't want to hear it. The anger was rumbling like an active volcano inside his stomach. ''You're wrong, and you know it. I should have stayed away, I can't do this again Masche, I don't want to. I wanna go home,''

''It will be better the next game, I know it,''  
''You're a lousy liar man, we're meeting Croatia next, did you forget that?''  
''Of course not, but we still have a great chance of going through,'' Masche said weak, but Leo shook his head feverishly. ''You're fooling yourself,''

''No, I choose to have faith in our team. In you,''  
''Well then you're an even bigger idiot than I thought you were,'' Leo snapped. He didn't mean it like that, but words of comfort were not what he needed right now. He had to feel this in his bones, needed to wallow in regret and self-pity. He tried to pretend as if he hadn't seen Masche's hurt expression but it was useless.

''I need you to hold it together,'' Masche tried.  
''Does it look like I can do that right now?''  
''No, and you can mourn today, but tomorrow I need you to be you again,''

''Who am I Masche? Hmm? Do I look like fucking Maradona to you?''  
''No, you look like Leo Messi to me. The man who can do anything if he sets his mind to it,''

''So you're saying that I didn't _want_ to score that penalty?'' Leo knew he was lashing out hard and unnecessary but he couldn't stop himself. The self-hatred was boiling over in his chest.

Masche barely even flinched. ''Enough, save your mind games for someone else. Wash your face, get your shit and get in the fucking bus,'' he said stoically. The authority in his voice was so familiar that Leo automatically complied. He splashed some water on his face, trying to ignore the puffy redness in his eyes, grabbed his bag ( that Kun had packed for him ) and walked to the bus as if he was stepping to the gallows.  
Masche walked beside him, their shoulders sometimes touching, his head held high. He was so balanced and fierce, Leo envied him for it. For the first time in ages, there were no Argentine fans waiting by the bus. It was odd and strangely humiliating, but today Leo was grateful for it.

When they sat down on the bus, he fell into a random seat. Beside Gonzalo. He opened his mouth to say something to Leo, but reconsidered it at the last second, pursing his lips together. Instead, he just patted him awkwardly on his arm and took out his phone to play a game. Leo vacantly looked at Pipita's screen but his eyes didn't really register anything that was happening.

He suddenly remembered his own messages and took his phone from his pocket.  
There were a few texts from his family and friends but one in the bottom really caught his attention.  
It was from a private number. Leo didn't even know you could text with a private number.  
He cocked an eyebrow and opened the text. _'Don't beat yourself up, this could have happened to me too,'_ it read. Leo blinked and gazed around the bus, looking for any suspects who might have typed that to him to cheer him up.  
Kun was clearly the most obvious perpetrator, seeing how he always looked for new ways of making Leo feel better.

''Sorry Pipa, can you move, I have to check something,''  
Gonzalo frowned but shrugged and stood up to let Leo pass. ''Okay,''

Leo made his way over to Kun and shoved the phone in his face. ''What the hell is this?'' he spat aggressively. Kun read the message and conveyed Leo confused. ''How should I know? I didn't send you that,''

''You sure about that? Give me your phone,''  
''No! Why would I send you a message with a private number?''  
''I don't know, but this sure as hell sounds like you cheering me up again if you didn't do it then prove it. Show me your phone,''  
Kun narrowed his dark eyes dangerously and Leo knew he was absolutely furious. He fished out his phone and handed it to Leo. ''Go fuck yourself,'' he grumbled.

That was like a kick in the gut. Especially when Leo went to Kun's text messages and didn't find anything suspicious or even remotely resembling the text he had received. ''Sorry,'' he offered. He handed the phone back to his best friend but Kun refused to meet his eye.

''Just go away,''  
''Kun I-''  
''Now Leo,'' Kun's voice told him that he better did what he said.

Leo had never hated himself more. He kept reading the mysterious message until they had reached their hotel. When he came to his room after dawdling around in the vacant lobby where he took a few much-needed drinks by himself, he found that Kun was gone. All of his stuff was missing too.  
There was a note on the bed. _'Don't follow me, We'll be fine, I just need to be alone,'_

Leo exhaled deep, feeling horrible. He knew he and Kun would be fine, they fought like this sometimes, but still. It didn't feel good, being alone right now. When Kun was really disappointed in him he tended to leave him notes like these. He was much better with expressing himself on paper.  
Leo had brought up some miniature bottles of Vodka into his room and decided to drink them all. When his head was spinning he took hold of his phone again, adamant on finding out who the mystery person who had texted him was.

He re-read the message a million time before he actually started typing back a reply. _'Who is this? How did you get this number?'_  
Leo didn't need to wait long for a reply. _'Who does it sound like dummy?'_

Leo's heart nearly tumbled out of his chest. There was only one person who called him a dummy. The one guy that Leo really shouldn't talk to today. And yet now it was all he could think of, to talk to him. To hear his voice again. Oh how he had missed him these past few months. No, he couldn't go back down the rabbit hole. He had to be strong and ignore it. But he couldn't if someone held a gun to his head.

The alcohol only helping him in bringing out his deepest desires. He pushed the call button and heard Cristiano's, warm sultry voice picking up on the other end of the line. ''Hello Leo, _''_

Oh for crying out loud, two words from Cristiano's lips and Leo felt like he could cry again. Damn it. This was a humongous mistake. ''Leo?'' Cristiano called out, seeing how Leo hadn't replied. ''Are you there? Hello?''

''How did you get my number? I got a new one,'' Leo blurted out, deciding to go on the offensive.  
''Sergio gave it to me,''

''Sergio Ramos? How the hell would he know my new number?'' Leo asked, disgruntled.  
''He wouldn't, but Pique has it, and apparently, he leaves his phone lingering around everywhere,''

Leo felt coldness spread over his spine. ''You have _no_ _right_ to contact me-no fucking right!''

''On the contrary, I have the _only_ right,'' Cristiano's voice never once wavered. He sounded calm, rational and certain, where Leo was one heaping mess of emotions.

''How do you figure that?'' Leo spat out desperately.

Cris' voice was lathered with compassion now. ''Because I'm the only person on this planet who knows how you really feel. Who can understand what it's like to fail at a moment like that.  
Being your only _equal_ I know Leo, I know your pain. I missed penalties like this for Portugal too, don't forget that.  
I know exactly how it feels to let my country down. No other player in your team can truly relate to that, because they don't know the burden you and I are branded with. Only I know. So I have the only fucking right to contact you in a situation like this,''

Leo fell into silence at that revelation. He knew Cris was right. Only he could truly relate to the complex depths of his pain. They were the two greatest players of their generation, and for the time being, they had no other rival. The world had higher expectations from them than they did from the rest of the players. It wasn't fair but it was the truth. The fans perpetually seemed to forget that he and Cris were only human beings, not living Gods.

Leo appreciated Cristiano's words but still, the anguish in his chest kept building up and before he could stop himself he was releasing all these months of loneliness on the Portuguese. ''Oh please as if you weren't enjoying the fact that I missed that fucking penalty. You scored three goals against Spain and I miss against Iceland, of course you were proud of yourself,''

There was a short silence on the other end of the line. Leo knew he had hurt Cristiano and he felt a mixture of content and regret. ''Fuck you,''  
''Am I wrong?''

''Yes, as usual, which is why I call you dummy sometimes. My teammates were laughing at you, I'll admit that, but I wasn't. How can you even think that after-''  
''After what?''

''After what we had, do you really think so little of me?''  
''Oh please, as if you ever cared about me. You just wanted to get into my pants,''

''Leo, have you been drinking?'' Cristiano asked coldly. Leo heard the steely hardness in his voice.  
''Yeah so what if I have? You're not my keeper or my mother, I can drink whenever I want,''

''Where is Aguero?''  
''I chased him out of the room by being an asshole,'' Leo admitted, sighing deeply. He downed his last bottle of Vodka in one giant gulp and burped.

''You _shouldn't_ be alone,'' Cris declared.

Leo cackled mockingly. ''But I am alone Cris, I've always been alone, even as a child. How do you still not get that?!''  
''Yeah because I don't know anything about feeling like that,'' Cris retorted angrily. ''Jesus Leo, the world doesn't revolve around you,''

''No, it revolves around _you_ , as usual,''

''Okay why are you so furious with me? Last I checked, you were the one who ended this thing, not me. If anyone should be angry it should be me,''

Leo's anger was bubbling over. Words he didn't truly mean came pouring out of his mouth. ''Why would you be? Like you ever gave a crap about me? You fuck whoever you like, you don't love anyone but yourself,''

Cristiano's sulking silence persisted much longer this time and Leo knew he had gone way too far. He had genuinely and purposely hurt Cristiano's feelings, almost hoping that if he did that, his own self-hatred would somehow dissolve. But it lingered, like a shadow.  
When Cris finally spoke again, his voice sounded beyond sad. Leo almost thought that he heard a sob somewhere in the sentence. ''Do you really think that? That it all meant nothing to me? Can you really be that dumb?''

Now it was Leo's turn to fall into an eery, pensive silence. This was dangerous territory. The meaning behind his words certainly suggested that Cris had felt something for him too but Leo didn't want to believe that. Couldn't. Because if it was true, he may have accidentally blown the best thing that could have happened to him by misjudging Cristiano's intentions.

He heard a door open in the background and someone said something to Cristiano. ''I'm on the phone Pep! Give me a minute please,'' Cristiano said in Portuguese. Leo knew enough of it to understand the message.

The door shut again and Cris was apparently by himself once more. ''Sorry about that,''

''I don't understand how you can be friends with that _animal_ ,'' Leo needlessly heard himself say. Why was he still lashing out? Apparently, he wanted Cristiano to get mad at him, to chastise him even more than he was doing it to himself. He wanted to feel it burn in his bones. He truly was a masochist.

''You know what, why don't you call me back when you're sober and not bashing on one of my best friends. I don't need this shit. And honestly, I deserve more from you after what you put me through. Think about that,'' Cris spat out hotly, revealing shards of that old temper again. ''Oh and for your information; when all my teammates were laughing at you when you missed that penalty, I was the one who stood up for you. The only one who took your side and told them to can it, telling them that it wasn't funny. Drink some water and go to bed you shit. You'll do better next time,''

Before Leo had the chance to reply Cris had hung up on him. Leo pulled his knees up to his chest, curled his arms around them and started weeping like a child. He flung his phone onto the floor, not caring whether he broke it or not. He didn't bother to check. None of it mattered now. He wanted to lay in Cristiano's arms again, safe and sound as he had so many times after their lovemaking. They had never been an official couple, Cristiano liked to call them friends with extras.

Although in retrospect, Leo didn't really consider Cris a friend.  
They had nothing in common, Cris was too loud, too flouncy and way too popular. He was too much of everything that Leo wasn't.

It had all started after that Ballon d'Or that Cristiano won in 2013. The one where he cried on the stage. Leo still wasn't sure how it had happened, but somehow they ended up in adjacent hotel rooms and actually had a drink in Cristiano's room together.  
One thing led to another and whenever they met each other since that day, they ended up having sex. The weird thing was that Cris always let him stay the night, ever since the first time during the Gala.  
And Cris was a cuddly sleeper too. He loved to hold onto Leo's head while he was sleeping, Leo often curled up like a cat as Cris caressed him and touched him until they fell asleep.

But it never meant anything to Cris. Leo knew that. He, however, well he'd been falling in love with Cristiano ever since he slid inside of the Portuguese during their first time. Maybe even before that, when their lips had touched in a consuming kiss that Leo had initiated ( because he had too much to drink as always ).  
Leo knew that Cris got a kick out of fucking his greatest rival, but that it was never more than that. Whenever they were together, they bickered about pretty much everything, subjects varying from Barca and Real till the colour of the sky.

But when they were apart, Leo increasingly started missing the older man and that was when he knew he was in more trouble than he had initially foreseen. He had to end it, no good would come of this. Cris would only break his heart, eventually. He would grow tired of Leo and move onto someone else. So it was better to leave him before Cris could do it to him. Leo didn't think he could endure being dumped by Cristiano.  
He had cut the cord himself to stay in control. But what followed had been the worst, darkest period of his life. They hadn't been together in five months now and Leo had missed him every day.

Only Kun had known about their affair, Leo hadn't dared to tell anyone else. He peeked up from his knees and gazed at the vacant bed to his left. He missed Kun. Cris was right, he shouldn't be alone right now. He slithered off the bed and searched for his phone, contemplating whether he should call Kun or not. He ought to respect the note and leave him alone, but he needed him. Even if it was selfish to demand it from him after his previous outbursts.

He found the iPhone under his bed, unlocked it and noticed that it was still fully functional, unlike Leo's mind. His fingers hovered over the dial Kun button but he clicked it away at the last second. No, he had to respect his space.  
He would have to go through this alone, as he did with everything else in his life.

His phone chimed once again, revealing one more text in his inbox. Leo's heart hammered in his chest. He hoped it was words of comfort, and yet he didn't feel like he deserved to hear them. Not from Cris.  
Cristiano who had apparently stood up for him as his entire country was laughing at Leo for being a failure. Leo wanted to drown in his sorrow.

He opened the text with quivering fingers, trying to subdue the persistent lump in his throat. _'Leo this is me, how can you even think that it never meant anything to me? I fucking held your head while you were sleeping. Why would I do that if I didn't care about you?'_

Leo felt as if someone hit him in the chest with a massive anvil. He felt nausea rising up in his throat again and this time didn't make it to the bathroom. He threw up on the floor, sitting on his hands and knees like an animal.  
He heard the door unlock behind him and out of the blue, Kun appeared in the doorway. When he saw Leo's questioning glance he exhaled deep and slumped his shoulders. ''I felt bad. You know I'm an enabler at heart. Couldn't leave you here all by yourself,''

This wasn't the first time Kun was cleaning up his sick like some underpaid janitor and it wouldn't be the last, but Leo had never been more grateful for his presence as he was in that moment. He didn't deserve him. He wanted to mumble a thank you but no words left his lips.

Kun folded his hand over Leo's and said, ''I know, it's okay. It was Cris who wrote you that message wasn't it?'' Leo nodded miserably. ''Yeah I figured that out when I was in Masche's room, which is why I came back. I had a feeling you would need me,'' Kun explained, glaring at the circle shaped ring of vomit on the carpet floor. He went into the bathroom and came back with a handful of moist paper towels, cleaning up Leo's vomit in silence.  
''Can you stand?'' he asked when he was done. Leo shrugged. ''Don't know, drank too much,''

Kun carefully hauled him to his feet and lowered him on the bed. He got a damp washcloth from the bathroom and cleaned Leo's face. After that, he fed him what felt like a gallon of water. They had repeated this ritual too many times. ''Do you have to pee?'' Kun asked, like clockwork.  
Leo shook his head. ''Not right now,''

''Okay,'' Kun tugged him in, curling the thick blanket over his fragile friend.

When he wanted to leave for his own bed Leo firmly clasped onto his arm. ''Stay? Please?''  
Kun nodded solemnly, turning off the light and laying down beside Leo in the narrow bed. He draped an arm over his slender waist and nudged his head onto the shared pillow. They had slept like this numerous times as children. ''I love you Kun, and thank you for coming back,'' Leo offered, weakly. Voice barely more than a whisper.

Kun mumbled something incoherent into his neck, the content truly irrelevant. They were cool, Leo knew that there was nothing he could say to Kun that would ever make him lose him as a best friend.

He eventually fell asleep, the weight of his country's fate dragging at his heart like a giant anchor, pulling him down further into the treacherous depths of the sea.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_TBC......_


	2. A feast for crows.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo's thoughts and musings after the Croatia games aren't pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long guys. I wanna thank you all for the enormous support I got from you during the first chapter of this story.  
> I hadn't expected so many of you to like it this much. It's good to know that Cressi isn't dead yet. 
> 
> I hope you guys like this chapter. I'll write another one for sure, channeling Leo's feeling about the Nigeria game.
> 
> I haven't spell checked it yet, I will do that later. So forgive me the mistakes. Also: English isn't my native language so there may be some errors.

_June 21st._

 

 

 

Luka Modric.

The blonde Croatian that Leo knew pretty well, a man who he usually really liked whenever they interacted before, during and after El Clasico's.  
He always asked him how Leo was doing, knowing about his anxiety problems. Ivan Rakitic had probably told him about that, he had always had a big mouth after a glass of wine.  
Luka was a lot like him, in a way. A bit shy, socially awkward, tiny, but incredibly skilful and divers. Luka was virtually impossible to cover, he always twisted and turned his way out of every block, eluding even three or more guys with one single motion.  
He was undoubtedly the _best_ midfielder Leo had seen since Xavi and Andres had played together.  
Without Xavi, Andresito had lost half of his heart and unfortunately also half of his talent. He was still amazing clearly, but Andres was getting tired, old and ever since Xavi's departure, Luka had been the undisputed greatest midfielder in the world.

And Leo had always liked him, truly, until today. Today Luka had been his destruction.

The press called it the battle of the LM10's, putting Leo under even more pressure than he already felt. If he didn't have to compete with Cristiano, he apparently had to compete with one of his teammates. Leo didn't get why everything always had to be about comparing players against each other, why couldn't they just enjoy him and Luka's talents separately?

And truthfully, Leo had known beforehand that beating Croatia in their current brilliant form ( and Argentina's poor one ) would be impossible.  
A draw had been the best he could hope for.

But Croatia was out for Argentine blood. Luka and his men were soldiers, washing over Leo's team like a unified tidal wave.  
Where Iceland had been using a blunt Viking axe to destroy Leo's team, no finesse just brute force and luck, Croatia was handling a scalpel, resembling a team of surgeons that slowly severed Argentina's aorta, letting hem bleed to death. It was subtle, refined and impossible to stop.  
They sliced and cut until all their nerve endings were exposed.  
And then they started poking and prodding.

And it _hurt_ , it fucking hurt like hell, leaving them defenceless to fight against it. They had kept their patient awake for the procedure, torturing them until they screamed in agony. Until they surrendered. Or maybe, just maybe, Argentina had never even begun to try to fight against their incisions in the first place.

Leo still couldn't get over how weak his team actually was. How it was beyond frustrating to him to be the only one that everyone looked at-again-and that nothing seemed to be going his way. They had let Croatia score three times. _Three_.  
One of the goals a beauty from Luka Modric, outside of the box as was typical for him.

And when that wasn't painful enough, Leo's buddy Ivan Rakitic had scored the third and final goal, twisting the scalpel even deeper into his heart. Leo wanted to roll over and die.  
He wanted to go home, go back to Barcelona and hide away in his house for the next two months. He had no intentions of going on vacations anywhere, not after this humiliation.  
How could he show himself in public if his country didn't even make it past the group stages? The shame would be enormous, unavoidable, insistent.

When the ref blew the whistle for the end Luka found him. He tried to hide his happiness, something Leo appreciated. He hugged him briefly. ''You'll still go through, don't worry. It will all be okay,'' he whispered in broken Spanish, patting Leo in his shoulder.  
Leo huffed, unbelieving. ''Sure, like you're not going to let Iceland win just to be rid of us,''

Luka looked affronted. ''Of course not, we're going to win that game, mark my words,''  
''Yes if you keep going like this you might actually _win_ the tournament,'' Leo said, meaning every word.  
''Don't be crazy, like we can ever beat Brazil,''

''Well you might if you keep it up. After all, you play like a Brazilian right?'' Leo said, recalling the video he'd seen of Luka taking a picture with Marcelo, Danilo, Casemiro and Roberto Carlos because he said he played like a Brazilian. Luka ogled him. ''You saw that?''  
''Yup, and you weren't wrong, Brazil would be lucky to have you on their midfield,''

Luka blushed shyly. ''Thanks, hey good luck during the rest of the tournament,''  
''You too,'' they shook hands and went on their way. Leo hugged Ivan coldly, feeling too pissed off at him to be nice and chatted about nothing he would remember later before making his way to the dressing room, wanting to drown himself in the shower.

He ignored all teammates that dared it to say anything to him, undressed and stood in that shower for what felt like an eternity. Sampaoli didn't even bother on a post-game speech today, sensing that his players wouldn't be listening to it anyway. Tomorrow would be a new day. A better time for tactics.

When Leo got back to his locker he took out his phone, noticing a new message from Cristiano.  
He contemplated reading it.  
After Cris' last text, Leo had sent him a furtive one back, but they hadn't talked since.

And yesterday Cris had scored another goal against Morocco. He was on four goals now while Leo had zilch. Nothing, the bitterness of his own failure ate away at him, consuming. He had one point and was on the brink of elimination. Where Luka had shone like a star, Leo had cracked through the ice.

The power was not in his hands anymore. If they didn't beat Nigeria, it was over for them.  
He had to get his composure back. Now. Before he was on a flight back to Barcelona in a few days.

However, Leo seriously wondered if he had any fight left in him. If he even wanted to go on. His spirit felt broken beyond repair.

His own fans had booed him today, revealing their sheer disappointment in the worst way imaginable. It had stung him, even more than Croatia's goals. Leo wasn't sure what he was fighting for anymore, he knew that with this team he would never win the World Cup anyway, so why not go home now?  
Wasn't that better than making it through, raising everyone's expectations again, building more pressure on his neck before a country like France would kick them out? Deep in his heart, Leo wanted to give up now, split and run for the hills.

He knew just what he needed to change his mind about that. A good kick in his ass. And there was only one person strong enough to make him listen. Leo dressed in silence, snatched his gym bag from the locker and made his way over to the bus. When they arrived at the hotel, he opened Cristiano's message.  
_'Call me when you need me,'_ it read _._

Leo swallowed heavily. Fuck how badly he needed Cris, especially now. He wanted to curl up in his strong, warm arms and forget that the rest of the world even existed. Leo had been incredibly sad after the Iceland game but now he mostly felt furious. He wanted to kick the shit out of his hotel room, break something, unleash all of the powerlessness he had felt during the game. Gaining some control back over his body, as well as his mind.

Kun was out again tonight, hanging out in Masche's room, knowing damn well that Leo needed time alone.  
Leo threw his bag on the bed and sank down on the uncomfortable mattress. It was too hard.  
He couldn't understand that a hotel like this didn't have better beds. Or better pillows for that matter. He barely slept since they'd arrived. He shifted around, trying to get comfy but failed, as he had failed everything he did today. He needed a drink. Or ten.

He jumped off the bed and wandered to the minibar, taking out a few small bottles of Vodka. One of the few drinks that Leo had found in every corner of every Russian hotel he had been in so far. Russians apparently really did love their Vodka. And Leo did too.

He downed the first two bottles easily, ignoring the burn in the back of his throat. He picked up his phone and dialled Cristiano's number, his fingers unwillingly quivering.  
At the third ring, a reply finally came.  
Only it wasn't the voice he had expected to hear. ''Hello?''  
''Who is this?'' Leo inquired, vaguely recalling that he recognized the voice but not sure who it was.

''It's Pepe, how are you doing Leo?''  
Leo felt his insides turn to ice, Pepe secretly scared him, still. ''That's _Lionel_ for you, not Leo,'' he snapped.  
Pepe didn't sound very impressed with his offensive tone. ''Oh really? Well hello again Lionel, how are you?''  
''What are you doing answering Cris' phone?''

''He's in the shower, I saw your name so I decided to pick up. Do you have a problem with that?'' Pepe sounded completely tranquil and at ease. As if he was sipping Margaritas from a hammock overlooking the ocean.  
''Yes, I don't want to talk to you. Have him call me back,''  
''Say _please_ ,'' Pepe demanded, all kindness removed from his voice.

''Fuck you,''  
''What is your problem with me exactly?''

Leo scoffed loud. ''You're a monster, you should have been banned from football years ago for all the shit you pulled,''

There was a momentary silence coming from the other side of the line, which made Leo feel better about himself. Pepe deserved this. He was an animal. ''I'm sorry you think that,'' the Portuguese simply said. ''But let me ask you something,''

''What?'' Leo grumbled reluctantly.  
''What about your buddy Suarez? Shouldn't he be banned from football too after all the things he did? After biting people like some undisciplined child? And what about Busquets?''

Leo blinked confusedly. ''Wait, what about Busi?''

''He stood on my head during a Clasico, he could have seriously injured me. He used my head as a frigging step. But of course, you forgot about that. Double standards as usual,''

''I-'' Leo stammered. It was his turn to fall into a pensive silence. He actually did remember that moment. That had been wrong of Busi to do, but in retrospect, Pepe had done far worse during Clasico's, so in Leo's mind it had always been somewhat justified.  
But at the end of the day, it had been really dangerous to do. ''I didn't forget that, but I know Busi is a good guy, so he didn't mean it like that. It happened in the heat of the moment,''

''And it was the same for me, Lionel, look I'm not a bad guy either, regardless of what you might think of me. Yes, I misbehaved on the pitch for a long time, but did I not call you guys every time after a Clasico to apologize when I hurt you?''

Leo chewed on the inside of his cheek, feeling frustrated. ''Yes, you did,''

''I'm Cris' best friend, his oldest friend. Do you really think he would be close to me if I was the horrible monster that you think I am?''  
Leo sighed, he was too tired to have this debate. ''No, I guess not,''

''You don't know me at all, you only know me on the pitch. Off of it, I'm a different guy. Maybe you should know the real me before you judge me,''

''No offence but I'm too exhausted to have this argument with you right now. You're right, I _did_ judge you and that was wrong, can we leave it at that? Can you please ask Cris to call me back? Please?''

''Okay, oh wait, he's just emerging from the bathroom, hang on,'' Pepe called out. Leo heard him shout something incoherent to Cris. ''Good luck with the rest of the tournament Lionel,'' Pepe said.

This caught Leo off guard. His niceness was so foreign to him, that he almost forgot his manners. ''Oh uh, thanks I guess,''

After a minute or so Cris' stingy voice came coursing through the line. ''Leo, you can't talk to my friends like that,''  
Leo felt the heat rising to his cheeks. ''He told you?''

''No, he would never do that, but he didn't have to tell me. I could tell by his face that you said some rude things to him.  
Everything is always so black and white with you, there's never any shades of grey.  
He's my best friend okay? The most loyal man I've ever known and you don't get to pick him apart because of his actions on the field from a hundred years ago. He's been behaving so well ever since Mourinho left. You just don't wanna give him a chance,''

''Can we not talk about this right now? This is not why I called,''

''No, I know why you called. But you need to know that this is where I draw the line in the sand. Offend my friend and I'm not going to talk to you until you apologize to him for being a brat-and to me. So call me when you're ready to own up to your judgy, petty shit,'' Cris disconnected the call abruptly, never one to make idle threats.

Leo gaped at his dark lock screen and felt fury rise in his chest. Why did Cris always have to make everything so damn difficult? Why couldn't he just be a normal friend when Leo needed him? He knew that if he wanted to speak to Cris today he would have to beg for it.  
Plead for his forgiveness. Leo wasn't that good at apologies.

He called Cris back and the Portuguese finally replied at the fourth beep. ''Yes?''

''Can I talk to Pepe?''  
''Only if you mean it,''  
''Can you stop being so needy, just let me talk to him Cris, please?''  
''All right,'' Cris agreed.

Pepe's voice reemerged on the other side of the line. ''Hello again Lionel,''  
''I'm sorry for calling you names,'' Leo blurted out.  
''That's okay,'' Pepe said callously.  
''It is?'' Leo felt a bit stunned.

''Sure, look no offence but I don't really care what people who don't know me think of me. If you don't like me then fine, you don't. I won't lose any sleep over it. We're cool, really,''  
''Oh-uh okay. Well, in that case, can I speak to Cris again?''  
''Sure thing Lionel,''

''You can say Leo now,'' Leo said, sensing that it would be the best thing to do in order to get on Cris' good side again. Even if he didn't really mean it.   
''Whatever you want _Leo_ ,'' Pepe laughed.

''So, now we can talk,'' Cris stated, voice a lot kinder than before. ''Can I see you?'' Leo asked, voice barely more than a whisper.  
''Of course, I haven't done my hair yet but you've seen me like that before. I want to see you too,''

Cris turned on his FaceTime and Leo nearly gawked at how beautiful and stunning he looked.  
His hair was all tousled, curly and damp from his shower and he only wore a towel around his slender waist. He sat on his bed, leaning back with a casualness that Leo could never equal. There was no sight of Pepe in the room, so Cris must have kicked him out.

God, Leo could not stop staring at him, taking in the sights of his former lover, a friend with benefits, whatever they had been, in to the maximum.  
He wanted to be there with Cristiano, to feel him come undone under his touches again.  
To split him in half with his cock, hearing Cris writhe and moan under him.  
It was painful to realize how much he had missed Cris over the past few months. Now that he saw him again, nearly naked and slightly vulnerable, Leo felt like the biggest fool in the history of the world to have ever let him go.

Cris sucked his lower lip into his mouth, gnawing lavishly at it, instantly turning Leo on. ''You look-''  
''Like shit, I know,'' Leo replied for him as he ogled his reflection.

''No, you look hurt but not like shit, you can never look like shit. Not to me,''

''Cris-I just-I sent myself home today. I sent my country home today. Luka Modric sent me home today,'' Leo choked out, feeling bile rise up in his throat.  
''No he didn't, you can still do this. I know you can. You will defeat Nigeria and Croatia will beat Iceland. I promise you. It will all be okay,''  
''You're fucking delusional!''

''I'm not, I'm right,'' Cris hissed stubbornly. His eyes were laced with that typical determination that was so purely Cris that Leo could cry at how much he had missed seeing him like that. Cris always made him feel like anything was possible as long as he had him at his side. He made Leo stronger. Enhancing his confidence when Leo felt at his worst.

''A part of me doesn't _want_ to beat Nigeria,'' Leo reluctantly admitted.  
Cris frowned hard, rubbing his thumb over his chin. ''What the hell are you talking about?''  
''If we do make it through, people's expectations will rise again, they will demand me to make Argentina World champions and you know I can't do that, not with this team. The hammer will go down even harder if we make it through and then get kicked out in the next round,''

''And you think that you're the only one who worries about that? What do you think I'm feeling right now? My country expects even more from me because I'm in good form. So if I let them down there'll be hell to pay for me too. But do you see me running to the hills? No, never. I'll never stop fighting for my country,''

''I can't believe you're gonna throw that back in my face again,'' Leo spat out hotly.

''Well you did retire Leo, say what you want about Pepe but he never turned his back to his country when it needed him,''  
Leo felt the need to throw Pepe's true native country ( Brazil ) back in Cris' face but was too tired for another argument. Sometimes it was better to let things slide, especially when Cris was being epically pigheaded like this. ''I'm hanging up now,''  
''Come on, don't be like that. You know I didn't mean it like that,''  
''Yeah you do, you always mean everything you say,''

Cris' dark expression mellowed a bit. ''I'm sorry, you're right. It was a low blow. I'm just trying to ignite your fire again, I hate seeing you so defeated.  
You can do whatever you set your mind to, I know you can. I believe in you, that will always be true. Now get yourself together and show Nigeria that they were right to be afraid of you. That you won't do down without a fucking fight. If you make it through to the next round and we do too, there's still a chance we will meet in the quarterfinals. Don't you wanna see me?''

Leo swallowed thickly, his heart hammering in his chest. ''Of course, I do, more than anything,''  
''Then go do your job,''

Leo picked up another bottle from the minibar and drank it eagerly. ''Vodka? Again?'' Cris sounded real disapproving. Leo rolled his eyes at him. ''Still not my mother Cris,''  
''I just don't want you drinking yourself to death,'' Cris stated, the demons behind his father's death still alive and kicking in his heart.

Leo instantly put the bottle down, somehow he had forgotten the reason behind Cristiano's profound hatred for alcohol. He was still going to drink, but he didn't have to do it in front of him.  
''I'm sorry, I didn't think,'' Leo offered meekly.

''Don't sweat it,''  
''I miss you,'' Leo said, not exactly thinking this shit through.

Cris blinked, clearly taken aback by that statement. ''Really?'' he asked with a hopeful glint in his eyes.  
''Yeah, really. Like a lot,''

Oh God, stop talking you moron, he snarled to himself. You're only making this worse for both of you!

Cris had an auspicious look on his face. ''Is this you or the alcohol talking?''  
''You know what they say Cris: drunk people tell the truth. I feel alone without you, even more than I usually feel. You're the only one who gets it, who gets me,''

Cris sucked in a breath, his expression faltering, the wall around him crumbling down until he was naked and vulnerable at Leo's feet. Exposed. Fragile. The real Cristiano was just a man with a bucketload of insecurities and self-doubt, ironic as it may seem. ''Then why...''

Leo felt a tear roll over his cheek. ''I don't know, I just-I-''  
''Leo, tell me,'' Cris insisted but Leo shook his weary head. ''No, not now. We have to focus on the tournament. We'll talk about this later. You need to do your best to get to that quarter-final and so do I. Maybe then, we can talk. But I can't let myself get distracted by personal feelings at the moment, not even if I want to. And neither can you,''

Cris debated this, conveying him long. ''Okay, good point, but you have to promise me that you won't cut me out of your life as you did before, promise me that we will actually have this conversation when all of this is over,''  
''I didn't cut you out of my life,''

''Yes you did, and it fucking killed me,'' Cris' voice was liquid, raw lava. Leo had never seen him look so heartbroken-so lost. The tension was palpable between them, rising up, building. ''I didn't mean to do that. I promise to keep my word on this one,''

''Swear to me,''  
''I swear it, Cris,''

''Good, oh hey I have to go, I promised Ricardo a card game,'' Leo felt his blood boil. ''Don't look so jealous, it was a hundred years ago Leo, there's nothing going on now,'' Cris assured him when he saw the fury on Leo's face at the sound of Quaresma's name.  
Leo had always been green with envy at the thought of those two together.  
He knew it had only been a childhood thing but still, Cris and Quaresma made sense. Whereas he and Cris didn't. Leo wasn't beautiful like Quaresma, wasn't sexy and didn't have that bad boy look.  
It made no rational sense for Cris to want him when Quaresma was nearby.

''I haven't wanted him in years,'' Cris said astutely. Leo shook his head. ''I didn't say anything,''  
''You never have to. We'll talk later okay. Text or call me whenever you want,''

''Okay, thanks. Good luck against Iran,''  
''Yeah you too against Nigeria, things will be fine. I promise you,''

Leo smiled appreciatively. ''Thank you, for everything,''  
''See you later Leo,''  
''Adios,''  
''Ciao!'' Cris called out, waving to the camera before the screen went dark.

Leo sighed, grabbed another bottle of Vodka and drank it quickly. He felt a renewed fire kindling in his bones. Cris was right. If he played his cards right and got it together now, they could actually meet up in the quarterfinals. Leo would make that his next personal goal.

To finally make his way back into Cristiano's arms again, where he belonged. Even if it didn't make any sense.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

_TBC......_


	3. Sometimes you win, only to lose again.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo and his team beat Nigeria. But France is just around the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long with this guys, I've been so tired and life got in the way constantly.  
> I just have zero energy lately. This isn't my best chapter, more a filler really. We'll get to the good stuff in the next chapters. I'm only now realizing that I let Cris say Ciao a few times as if I somehow sensed he would go to Italy soon. But I didn't know it. It was just a cruel coincidence. 
> 
> I'm very sad he's going to Juve. I don't know if I'll incorporate that in this story yet. 
> 
> I hope you guys like this chapter. I'm not sure about it. And I haven't spell checked it yet. So don't kill me if there's mistakes in it.
> 
> Oh and I know the timeline is off, Portugal and France made it through to the next round before Argentina did. But in this timeline this made more sense.

_June 26th._

 

 

 

 

Winning felt almost...foreign to Leo. Which was a rarity on its own.  
Playing for Barcelona he had grown accustomed to winning trophies and beating most of their opponents but beating Nigeria today, may have been one of the most critical wins of his entire career. He was still in the race for becoming world champions with his country.  
Under the relentless heaviness of Maradona's watchful eyes, he had finally clawed his way out of the darkness and into the light.

He had scored his first goal of the tournament, which truthfully was a massive load off his shoulders. It wasn't an easy game, Nigeria fighting like a pack of desperate, starving lions, but somehow they had managed to do it.  
And Luka Modric had _thankfully_ kept his word, Croatia had beat Iceland. If they kept going like this, they could be a real competitor for the title, even if Luka was too humble to admit it.  
Leo was seriously impressed by Croatia's team. They had been killing every opponent so far, being one of the few teams who had gained nine points out of the pool matches.  
Leo was glad they had won and celebrated with his teammates, screaming until his voice was hoarse, but in the back of his mind, he was feeling the pressure increase by the second now.

And he was more tired than he had ever been in his entire life. It had been a long and hard season at Barca, yes they had won the Liga but again, no Champions League. Which was weighing him down. All the stuff with Cristiano ate away at him and the constant self-doubt was exhausting. He had realized after their last call that he had made a gigantic mistake by letting Cristiano go.  
He wanted him back, even if it was a bad idea and he would have to go deep to achieve it.

He tried to put those thoughts out of his mind and focus solely on the world cup but they kept nagging him on every hour of the day. He hadn't been sleeping well. Kun had bunked with him every night since his call with Cris in which he had admitted that he missed him, but it was no use. Leo lay awake for hours and only slept for a bit when the sun came out.  
Kun slept like a baby, he always had. He had never been a worrywart like Leo.

During the day Leo talked about tactics with his teammates but Kun kept drilling him about Cris, sensing that something had happened with them and wanting to know the truth. Leo didn't cave though, despite Kun's concerns. He couldn't let himself or his best friend get distracted now.

When news arrived that they would be facing France in the next round Leo was at dinner in the hotel with his teammates.  
He gazed around for their reactions and saw the defeat shimmering in their eyes. France.  
They had been expecting it but it was still a shock. France was arguably the strongest team in the tournament. They had a bench that Leo could only dream of and an amazing player in each position.

And Raphael Varane was going to be his guardian-again. Leo seriously hated playing against him. Varane was lanky and skinny like a giraffe but he was so fast and much stronger and more skilful than people gave him credit for. He was like a gnat on the wall, following Leo around like he had honey on his ass, never once relenting in his duty. He was one of the most focused defenders Leo knew. He had his prey and didn't let it go.

He wasn't like Ramos, wild, untamable, slightly crazed and hot-tempered. Ramos _always_ made a mistake, eventually. Leo would always find the opening that he knew would inevitably come when he was up against the Spaniard. But Varane, he was much more refined.  
He gained up on Leo like a bloodhound, shadowing him closely. It was hard to slip out under his grasp, but Leo knew it was possible. He had done it before. But it wouldn't be easy.  
And even if by some miracle-he surpassed Varane, he would still be facing their goalie, Lloris. Who was one of the _best_ goalies in the world.  
So yes, Leo understood his teammates despair better than anyone.

He knew he could get past by Samuel Umtiti, seeing how he was his Barca teammate and he knew his weaknesses but bypassing Varane was no picnic. God, Leo wished he had a defender like Varane at Barca. The things they could achieve with a guy like that in their team. The possibilities seemed endless.  
He made goals too. He had the whole package. Leo knew that he would eventually outdo Ramos if he kept going like this.

At least Croatia had been smart because by beating Iceland they had become first in their group and got Denmark in the next round. That would be doable for them. If Leo hadn't missed that bloody penalty against Iceland they could have been in that position now, but they weren't. Because of him. Leo wanted to drown himself in self-pity.  
He knew that France would mean the end of the line for them. That much was inevitable. But they weren't going to go down without a fight.  
Leo would give his all and knew his team would do the same.

Kun nudged his arm hard, making Leo cringe. ''What?''  
''You okay?''  
''Fine, why?''

''You barely said two words since you heard about France,'' Kun observed.  
Leo swatted Kun's hand off his elbow, irritated. ''Well, what do you want me to say? That we're fucked? I think everyone already knows that,''  
''Don't be so negative, _anything_ can happen. It's been a crazy tournament so far and you need to have faith,'' Kun argued wisely, his dark eyes twinkling with misplaced optimism.

Leo _hated_ it when he did that. Kun never allowed him to wallow in his gloomy moods. He always had to cheer him up. Leo literally had to tell him to fuck off sometimes. And yet every now and then Kun would simply leave him be, unexpectedly, and when he did Leo often missed having him around to feel a bit better about himself. So in other words: he was impossible to comprehend and Kun was too good for him. He didn't deserve having him as a friend. Whatever Kun did, he got screwed for it.  
With Leo, he just couldn't seem to win.  
If he left him alone, he got mad at him for it, but if he stuck around Leo wanted him gone. He didn't get why Kun had stayed so loyal to him all those years.  
Leo gave him just enough affection for Kun to keep going back to him, like a dog following its owner that could occasionally be really cruel to it. Kun must be some kind of masochist.

Leo gazed at his friend, who was now laughing at Pipita who dropped his hardboiled egg to the floor and sighed.  
Kun wasn't angry because Leo had blatantly ignored his words and had been moping.  
He was mellow. He was happy. Smiling. The heaviness of Leo's moods never seemed to affect him. He suddenly felt like the worst person on the planet and decided to flee to his room.

Kun didn't follow him. Leo didn't want him to. He sank to the soft mattress and started flipping through some old childhood pictures of them together on his phone. He had a special ''Kun'' file on his iPhone, one that he often looked at when he was feeling sad and he missed having him around.  
When he exited the file, his eyes landed on the ''Cris pics'' that he still hadn't deleted. He was aching to look at them. Wanted to see them more than he wanted to breathe right now, but he couldn't.  
Tears were already building in his eyes at the thought of Cris, looking at pictures of them together would kill him. And yet his thumb stubbornly kept lingering over the screen, dangerously close to pushing the icon.

Someone was knocking on his door. The sound of it vaguely registering in his mind. He swallowed thick and placed the phone under his pillow. Whoever it was they had unknowingly saved him from a mental breakdown.

Leo inhaled sharp, tried to regain his posture and waddled to the door. Masche was on the other side of it. ''I'm just checking in,'' he said defensively as if he half expected Leo to be fuming for disturbing him. ''No, it's fine, come in,''

Masche did and sank down on Leo's bed, patting the covers, silently ordering him to come to sit with him. Masche never had to tell Leo what to do with words. Leo listened to him regardless. He was like a father figure to him. Papa bear.  
Masche was a brave warrior, but he had kind touches and a gentle heart. Leo missed him immensely since he had left Barcelona. It hadn't felt right without having Masche around to protect him. Leo felt exposed with him gone.  
Vulnerable. Masche always knew what do to or say to get him out of the gutter. He was his voice of reason. And now that he had left Barca Leo only spoke to him sporadically, over the phone.

''We're having a party in the lobby tonight, you should come,'' Masche stated, eyes keen and observing.  
''I can't,''  
''Yes you can, and you will,''  
''No Masche, I can't,'' Leo snarled persistently. His back was killing him, his bruises had bruises and his legs weighed a ton each. And those were just his physical problems, he didn't even want to get into his emotional ones. 

Masche was visibly annoyed now and Leo knew he was about to get a lecture. ''Leo, this isn't just about you. We're all tired, we're all nervous about France, but we made it through. Today we should celebrate that for a moment before we focus on the rest. And you are a part of this team. So you _will_ show up. Because that's the right thing to do as captain. So you'll put on some nice clothes, do your hair, wipe that sour puss off your face and you'll pretend to be happy even if you're not. Got it?''

''I'm not good at pretending,'' Leo sighed. He didn't want to see anyone tonight, except maybe Cris, but he was thousands of miles away.  
''I know. Try it anyway,''  
''I don't believe in fairytales anymore Masche,'' Leo exclaimed, sounding dreary.

Masche looked confused. ''What do you mean?''  
''That we'll never beat France. I can't do it,''  
''Yeah I know,''

Leo blinked, astounded. ''What?''  
''I know _you_ can't do it. Not on your own. But you don't have to. We're going to help you. This is my last tournament too you know. Not just yours. I feel the pressure too, and so do all the other guys in an Argentine shirt. And I'm a realist like you, so yes there's a big chance we're going to go home against France. But that won't stop me from fighting until the fucking end to make sure we will go through. I'm not just gonna roll over because everyone says they're the top dog. I'm gonna fight tooth and nail. With everything that I got. I need you to do the same. We have no chance at all if you don't even believe in it beforehand. The other guys will notice and your mood will corrupt their thinking too. It will bring them down and I can't let you do that. We will have lost before the game even starts if you keep this up,'' Masche told him.

''I don't wanna get my hopes up and then get the hammer in my face if we lose,'' Leo contemplated, taking ahold of his old friend's hand.

Masche patted his shoulder lightly. ''I don't want you to expect to win, I want you to give them the fight of their lives. I want to see you go to hell and back for this team. I want you to _try_. If you give up, we might as well go home right now and forfeit the game. I have your back, we all have your back. But you need to have ours too. You can't make this all about you again,''

''I'm not doing that, the fucking media makes it all about me! They do this to me,''  
''Yes, of course, poor Leo. The victim of the media,'' Masche rolled his eyes at him and nudged him in his ribs, quite hard. Leo choked out a muffled breath. It had hurt. Masche punching him. Not that much, it was more the shock of the sudden gesture than the actual pain, as if Leo had been bitten by a beloved pet.

''Ow, what are you stomping me for?'' he complained, rubbing his hand over his chest.  
''I need you to snap out of it and this is the best way I know how to do that. I'm sorry I hurt you but you need a little reality check and we both know that Kun won't give that to you. He'll coddle you, again, because he _idolizes_ you and you can never do anything wrong in his eyes. But right now you need a hard hand, not a pair of soft gloves,''

Leo grumbled. ''I think I do prefer the soft gloves,''  
''Everyone does,'' Masche shrugged. ''But that doesn't mean it will help you. I'm more a disciple of tough love as you know,''  
Leo laughed. ''No shit?''  
He contemplated Masche's words and exhaled loud, trying to regain some energy for the party downstairs. ''Fine, I'll go change for the party,''

Masche leaned forward and pecked his forehead before swallowing him into a massive hug that nearly cracked Leo's ribs. He was immensely strong, for a scrawny guy. Always had been. ''I'm proud of you,'' his former captain complimented. He winked at Leo and smiled. ''I'll see you downstairs then yeah?''

''Yeah, just give me a while to mentally prepare myself,''  
''I will, I'll keep Kun out of your room,''

''Please do,''

Masche left him alone and Leo changed into a neat pair of jeans and put on the green blouse that Cris had given him for his birthday a few years ago. He had never told Cris but he had always brought that thing along, everywhere he went. He wore it at least once a week. It reminded him of Cris and if a fire would ever erupt in his house it would probably be the first thing he would rescue before he ran outside.  
Leo had a secret chest in his house with all of Cristiano's gifts that he had given him. Not even Kun knew of its existence. Every now and then he took it in his arms and rummaged through it as the memories washed over him.  
Which never helped his heavy heart. It only made him miss Cris ten times over.

His phone started beeping from underneath the pillow. Leo's heart skipped a beat, as he had a feeling he knew who it was that was calling. And he was right. Cris name appeared on the screen. His fingers instantly leapt to the button but halted at the very last second. Leo shouldn't do this now. Shouldn't let himself get distracted by untamable emotions again.  
If he heard Cris' voice he would crack again. Bursting out into tears.

As much as he longed to speak to him, to hear the soothing tone of his voice, Leo took Masche's advice to heart and ignored the call until the noise eventually died. Leo felt anguish and regret coursing through his veins. He was a miserable shit for not answering.

Two seconds later the phone beeped, announcing that he had a text. Cris was never one to give up without a fight. _'Bad time?'_

 _'I'm out partying with the team,'_  Leo typed back, feeling a bit ashamed for lying to Cristiano, but knew it was necessary, otherwise, Cris would call him again once he learned Leo was alone and able to answer the phone.

_'Yes, that's why I called. I wanted to congratulate you on making it through,'_

_'Thank you,'_  Leo wrote back. He had already sent a similar text to Cris yesterday when Portugal made it through after a draw against Iran. Cris had missed a penalty though and Leo had sent his condolences along with his text.

But deep down, a horrible, tiny part of him was glad for it. That Cris had made the same mistake he had. It would take a little pressure off of him. But thankfully, most of him felt sorry for Cris for missing that. And he would never admit to another living soul that he would ever feel otherwise.

The truth was that he wanted Cris to succeed. He was proud of him when he saw him leading Portugal by his firm hand, guiding them into the next round. Cris had that natural born leadership that he lacked. Leo would follow him to the gates of hell if Cris asked it of him. He was more powerful than Leo would ever be.  
His phone beeped again. _'That's it? Just a thank you?'_

_'What more do you want me to say?'_

Silence. A long one _._ Eventually, his phone made another announcement. _'Forget it,'_  
_'Cris, what's wrong. Why are you mad at me?'_

 _'Forget it, enjoy your party,'_  Cris said stubbornly. Leo knew he would be sulking and obsessing over this for the rest of the evening so he decided to find out what was eating away at Cris' heart. He called him. Cris answered at the first beep. ''I don't want to talk to you right now,''

''Hello to you too,'' Leo snorted.  
''I don't hear party noises,'' Cris snapped astutely.  
''I'm in my room, I was on my way to the party,''  
''Oh so you _lied_ ,''

Leo felt his cheeks heat up. ''Yes,''  
''Why?''

''I was-worried-that talking to you would throw me off my game-again,''  
''Let me see you,'' Cris ordered hotly. He sounded so unhinged. So furious with Leo. Leo genuinely had no clue what he had done wrong.

Leo turned on his FaceTime and saw Cris' face appear on his screen. It was dark in his hotel room and he was laying on his bed, head resting against a pillow. Leo's heart jumped in his chest when he saw him, but wanted to hide when he saw the fury in the Portuguese's chocolate coloured eyes.  
''Why are you-''  
''Don't talk to me,''

''What the fuck is going on? Why did you answer your phone if you don't want to talk to me?''  
Cris fell into a moping silence again and gazed intensely at Leo. Then his eyes narrowed and a tiny smile danced on his lips. ''Are you wearing that blouse I gave you?''

Leo fought a losing battle against his stupid blush. ''Oh yes, I love this blouse,''

''Do you wear it a lot?''  
''Yes,'' Leo had never been good at lying to Cris, somehow he always managed to dig out his deepest secrets.  
Cris looked content with that answer. ''Well it looks _amazing_ on you, it always has,''  
''Thanks,''  
''Do you think we'll make it? To the quarterfinals? That we'll meet there,'' Cris asked, voice almost balancing on insecurity.

''I don't know. Honestly, I don't have much hope for us, playing France. But you might, against Uruguay,''  
Cris huffed. ''Easier said than done. I'm facing frigging Cavani and Suarez,''

''Stop complaining, I'm facing an entire French herd that can technically outplay my team in the blink of an eye if they want to,''

Cris grinned wide. ''Touche, well if we both get eliminated we can hook up at the airport,''  
''We'll be in different cities smarty pants,''  
Cris shrugged. ''Allow me to dream a little you realistic bully,''  
''You don't dream Cris, you're the most realistic guy I know-well except for Masche probably,''

Cris chuckled loud. ''Yes he and Pepe would get along great,''  
''I'm sure,''  
''Don't drink too much tonight okay, you need all your concentration if you wanna beat my little Varane,''  
''Little? He's a few inches _taller_ than you,''

''He's still a baby to me, I can't help it. In my head, he's still the innocent nineteen-year-old boy I met when he first came to Madrid. But he's going to give you a run for your money if you're not careful. My advice would be to try to approach him from the right, his left leg is a little weak, slow,''

Leo frowned. ''Are you seriously giving me tips on how to defeat your teammate? Your French baby?''  
Cris slumped his shoulders, looking defiant. ''All is fair in love and war Leo. Take it or leave it!''

Oh, Leo would take it. Only he had a hard time figuring out how Cris went from being mad at him for something to handing out tips and smiling as if nothing had ever happened. He would never truly understand Cristiano. Not even after all this time. Every time he thought he had him all figured out he did something unexpected that threw him off course again. Although in retrospect, with Cris you never had any dull moments.  
''I'll take it. Are you ever going to tell me why you were angry at me?'' Leo inquired, not sure whether he wanted to know the answer.

''I'll tell you when we meet in the quarterfinals,''  
''I wish I had your confidence level,''

The older man sighed deeply, looking dishevelled and more serious than Leo liked to see him. ''Leo you know me: fake it till you make it. I would argue that even you believe in it more than I do right now. I'm up against the impregnable Atletico wall of defence,'' he said, referring to Jose Maria Jimenez and Diego Godin.

''That's true,'' Leo contemplated thoughtfully. Atletico's defenders were legendary.

''You should go to your party,'' Cris reminded him, hand coursing through his curls. He traced his tongue over his lower lip, a wanton twinkle in his eyes that drove Leo mad. He felt something insistent growing in his pants, straining against his boxers. ''I don't want to go anymore,''

''I know,''

God, how where they in the same country and still so far away from each other? It almost seemed cruel. Leo would give anything to be in Cris' close proximity right now. To hold him, to lay in his arms after he had fucked Cris' so hard that he would forget his own name.  
Although he wasn't quite sure that he would ever be in those arms again.  
If Cris would ever take him back. He could only hope so, but he wasn't sure if he deserved to be forgiven. A little sly voice inside of his heart told him that things could never go back to what they were after he had done that to Cris.

They stared at each other for a long time, in a comfortable silence. Leo felt warmth engulf him with each heartfelt smile the Portuguese gave him. He wanted to tell him that he loved him, but they had never done that before and he was worried it would cost him too much. So instead he swallowed his tongue and exhaled profound.  
''I should go,''  
''Then go!'' Cris' wasn't judging, not really. He was actually nudging him along, trying to help him.

''I can't look away,''  
''I don't _want_ you to,'' Cris told him, voice laced with affection. Face contorted in a dejected mixture of sheer grief and a tiny ray of hope.

''We shouldn't call again until this is all over,'' Leo said insistently.

''You said something similar before and yet you still called me. So,''  
Leo grumbled disgruntled. ''Well don't answer me when I call then,''

Cris tutted and made a disapproving sound. ''Like I can do that. Now you're just being a brat again,''  
''I'll talk to you later okay? For now, radio silence might be better for both our teams,''

''Maybe, whatever. Good luck against France,'' Cris said cagey. Leo knew he was pissed, but didn't have time to get into this right now. ''You too, against Uruguay,''  
''Ciao!'' Cris called out. He waved once and ended the call before Leo had a chance to reply. He hated it when Cris did that. It was sort of his signature move.

He sat on his bed for another ten minutes before he managed to collect his thoughts and haul his overly tired ass downstairs.  
He wanted to drown himself in his sorrow. Surrender to it. 

Why did he always ruin every good thing that happened to him?

 

 

 

 

 

 

_TBC......_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it was still kinda good. I do love Masche, he fought like a warrior against France. 
> 
> And Leo and I were right about Croatia making the final! I hope they win. 
> 
> Let me know what you think guys. Your opinion is always valued. Thanks for reading! <333


	4. The big guns.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo faces France and loses. 
> 
> Cris faces Uruguay and suffers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long you guys. Life got in the way. 
> 
> I hope you like this, I'm a bit on the fence about this chapter. It was a struggle to make, let me tell you that haha. 
> 
> I'm curious to hear your thoughts.

_Russia_. 

 

 

 

Losing would always hurt. Always. But losing when you didn't _have_ to was even worse.  
Against all odds, Argentina actually managed to play really well against France and they were just one goal short to get a draw and go into extra time. Leo would rather lose with 4-0 then being beaten with 4-3.  
When Kun scored the third goal in the extra time of the game, his hope returned in his heart. Briefly. For a split second, he almost believed that they could actually turn this around. But the sound of the referee's whistle ended his and every Argentinian world cup dream. They had failed-again.  
Leo wanted to be upset about it and a part of him was, but for now, the familiar numbness took ahold of him.

They had played so well he could be proud of himself and his teammates, and he was. They had gained the lead in the game against all odds. But Mbappe was like a baby Cheetah, his speed simply out of this world. Too much for Leo's much slower defenders to handle. Marcus Rojo couldn't keep up with him and was forced to pull on the emergency brake, creating a penalty for France. Which wasn't missed. And that had been the beginning of the end for them.

Everything that happened after the game went by in a haze of emptiness. He couldn't recall the conversations he had shared with the French players, nor the interviews he had given. He didn't have the heart to support his teammates they way they needed or deserved, that was Masche's self-appointed job. Leo wallowed in his own misery, too dishevelled to be around other people.  
He knew that it wasn't a good quality in a leader, to be so selfish and withdrawn, but he wasn't the captain of this team.  
Well, he was, but only in name, Masche was the true, undisputed captain and he tended to everyone's needs and sadness. That was his strength.

Leo, well, right now he wasn't sure what his strengths were anymore.  
Winning world cups was not one of them apparently. He knew after the loss that he would never win one, that much was painfully evident.  
He would retire from his national team empty handed now, as he had done two years ago.  
But this time it would be for good. It was time for another generation to be hatched, without Leo present to constantly undermine their growth and capacities because he was the centre of attention.  
He had to be selfless and step down, for the sake of the team. Not that he minded, to be honest.

Back in his hotel room he tried to regroup and collect his thoughts. They would leave for the airport very early tomorrow morning. Leo would have rather left immediately, trying to wipe all memories of his time in Russia out of his mind. He hadn't really had a good time. The country was nice and divers but the persistent odour of his own failures corrupted his thinking.  
He turned the TV on and decided to watch Cristiano's game, mostly because he needed to see him right now. He seldom watched games with Cris in it, but today he had to, hoping it would somehow make him feel anything again and drag him out of his zombie-like state where he only felt numbness.

The game was about to start and Leo saw Cris stand in the tunnel beside Cavani, looking tense. He feinted a confident glare but Leo saw right through it.  
He felt a bit bad that he hadn't sent Cris a good luck text and only now realized that he had neglected his phone ever since the game. Cris might have texted or called him afterwards.

But when he finally checked his phone he noticed that there were tons of messages on it, but alas nothing from his former lover. Leo felt a little distraught at that. Then again, they had agreed not to speak until they made the quarterfinals, but that was just an empty promise and both of them knew it. Yet it was hard for Leo not to be really disappointed by the lack of Cris' support.

Kun returned from wherever he had gone to and looked more like a ghost than he did a man. He had aged twenty years in the span of a 90-minute game.  
He sat on the bed beside Leo and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, nudging him to the side so they could sit against the headboard together. Their legs and arms brushing together due to the lack of space.  
''Does it help?'' Kun asked after a long and pensive silence where the only sounds came from the game.

''What?''  
''Seeing him?''  
''Not really, it only hurts even more. But I can't seem to turn the fucking thing off,''  
''Want me to do it?'' Kun offered, ogling toward the remote in Leo's hand.

''No,'' Leo instantly said.  
''God you really are a _masochist_ aren't you?'' Kun's voice was laced with pity.  
Leo snorted grim. ''I know,''

''Do you want him to win?''  
Christ, Leo absolutely _hated_ it when Kun asked these type of questions. The answer should be easy enough: yes or no. But this was a complex question disguised as a simple one.  
So instead he tried to deflect it by sidestepping it. ''Does it matter?''

Kun's red, puffy eyes twinkled. ''No, but it says a lot about you as a person if you want him to lose,''  
Leo rolled his eyes at his best friend, Kun could be really petulant sometimes. ''I don't want him to lose,''

''But you also don't want him to win and outdo you,''  
''No, which is why that was another impossible question you dipshit,''

Two seconds later Cavani scored and Kun let out a huff. ''Well I guess you can catch the plane back to Spain together,'' he joked.  
''It's not over Kun, they have time to fix it,''

''That was some bad defending on Pepe's behalf,''  
''Yeah it was,''  
The game preceded and Cavani scored another goal before picking up an injury. Cris walked over to him, wrapped his arm around his waist and helped him off the pitch, leading him to the doctor. Leo knew he shouldn't be jealous, that it meant nothing, but still, he felt a furious stone settle in his stomach.

''Aw look at that, now that's sportsmanship,'' Kun said as if he had picked up a new job as a reporter.  
''Don't be crazy, he just wanted him off the pitch faster. Look at how fast he grabbed him and the pace in his step. Trust me this is just Cris being impatient and not wanting to lose too much time. It doesn't mean anything,'' Leo spat out hotly.

''Wow it gets really busy in that head of yours when you're jealous huh,''  
''I'm not fucking jealous! Not of Cavani! Cris doesn't like guys with long hair,''

''Oh is that why you cut yours off?''  
Leo ignored the blush rising to his cheeks. ''Shut up,''

''So yes,'' Kun concluded, grinning wide. ''Wow he must have meant a lot to you if you were willing to trim your precious long locks for him,''  
Kun didn't mean it so serious, Leo realized that but still, his words stung. He pursed his lips together and sighed, unwilling to affirm the conclusion the younger man just made.

Kun quickly understood his mistake and reached for Leo's hand. ''I didn't mean-''  
''I know,''  
''You know me, I never think before I say shit,''  
_''I know_ , it's okay,''

''No it's not, you're upset,''  
''Yeah but not with you, with everything,''

Kun's hand extended further and untangled the remote from Leo's hand without him truly sensing it. ''I'm gonna turn it off now,''  
''No,''  
''Leo, let me help you,''

''You can't help me, nobody can,''  
''Isn't it time to make some grand gesture?'' Kun inquired and for the first time Leo tore his eyes away from the screen. ''What?''  
''To Cris I mean. To prove to him how much he means to you,''

Leo blinked twice, ogling Kun in confusion now. ''Why the fuck would I do that?''

''Because you love him and because you're better when you're around him. I have never seen you so happy as you were when you were with him. Do something unexpected, like fly out there to meet him!''

Leo tried really hard not to lose his patience with Kun but it was hard when he was being such an unrealistic brat. ''This isn't a fucking movie Kun. I can't just fly to the other side of the country to meet him! We're going home tomorrow morning,''

''So? Hire a private plane, tell el mister you will go home by yourself. Problem solved,''

Leo contemplated it briefly but discarded it before he allowed himself to wallow in false hope. ''They will fly home tomorrow too Kun, I can't get there in time. It's too far. By the time I'll land they will take off,''

Kun chewed on his lower lip, looking pensive. ''I guess you're right, well then you fly to Madrid instead of Barcelona and meet him at his house as a surprise,''

Leo mused on that for a while, that didn't sound so crazy as his previous plan and was actually doable. The referee blew the whistle for the end of the game and Portugal was eliminated. Leo and Cris would be going home at the same time. How poetic. Leo wasn't sure what to feel right now. When he saw Cris' sadness he only felt the desire to hold him in his arms and comfort him.  
There was no satisfaction in his heart that Cris hadn't made it either. He picked up his phone and started typing a furtive text.  
_'I'm sorry, please call me when you need me,'_ he glanced over it twice and let Kun read it, who frowned. ''No kisses at the end?''

''We're not exactly the romantic types Kun,'' Leo sneered as he sent the message.  
''Yes you are, maybe he isn't but you definitely are,''

''Well maybe, but not around him,''  
''No, because you're still too afraid to let him know how much he means to you,''

''Hey, I'm about to make ''the big gesture'' aren't I?''  
''Yes but who's to say that you aren't already too late with that? You hurt him, Leo, he may not ever forgive you for it, not even after making a big gesture,''

Leo felt his heart sink into his shoes. ''I want my optimistic Kun back, I don't like this guy,''  
''Reality is a bitch,'' Kun agreed, ''but I'm just trying to protect you by lowering your expectations. I don't want you to get your hopes up for nothing,''  
''Neither do I, but you're right. I have to do something if I want him back,''

Kun mused on this and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ''Do you have a key to his place?''  
''No, but I know a guy who knows someone who does,'' Leo smirked. Kun blinked, confounded. ''Who are you-oh you mean Angelito. He's best friends with Marcelo and he _will_ have a key!''

''Exactly! I have to go find him,''  
''Want me to come with?''  
''Nah you stay in and relax, I'll be back in a second,''

Leo left their room and banged on Angel's door. He was sharing a room with Marcus Rojo, who opened the door for him. ''Hey Leo, everything okay?''  
''Yeah, is Angelito in?''

''Yep, come in,'' Rojo stepped aside and let Leo enter. Angelito was laying on the bed looking distant and disgruntled.  
''Can you give us a moment please?'' Leo pleaded. Rojo nodded and left them alone instantly. He never needed to be told twice.

Leo sat on the bed and knew he had to offer Angel some form of comfort or convey an interest to how he was feeling but the clock was against him and he had to do this now. ''I need your help,''

''With what?'' Angel snarled, all warmth evaporated from his voice.  
''I need Marcelo's number,''

''Come again?''  
''Marcelo, you know, Brazilian, lots of curls, very loud. Also known as your best friend. I need his number, now,''

''What for?''  
''That's private, but let's say you would be doing me a huge favour if you give it to me,''  
''Sorry, right now I'm not really in the giving mood,'' Angel lashed out.

''Please Angelito?''

Angel sat up and folded his arms together, looking ready for a fight. ''No, go away. I actually thought you came here to offer some form of support, but again it's all about you and what you need. You haven't even asked any of us how we are doing since we came back to the hotel. And now you want a favour?  
No. Not unless you tell me _why_ you want what you want,''

''I want his number because I need to borrow the key to Cristiano's house. I want to be there when he returns from Russia, to tell him how much he means to me,''  
''Que?'' Angel's jaw faltered rapidly now.

''I'm in love with him and we have been sort of together for a few years. Look it's complex okay but I need to do this if I wanna save what we have or had. I made a mistake and now I have to fix it. So I need that key. I need Marcelo's number. Please...''

Angel was clearly at a loss for words. He had never looked more confused in all his life and that was saying something because he always looked a bit lost. ''You-you and Cris? Seriously? Like for real?''

''Well sort of, yes,''  
''How the hell did you manage to keep that a secret?''

''Look can we fast forward to you handing me the number now? Afterwards I'll tell you all you need to know, I promise. Although you will have to keep it a secret obviously,''  
''Okay, but uh there's one problem,''

''What's that?''  
''Marcelo doesn't have a key. Pepe did but he's given his back when he left. There's only one guy now with the key,''

''Who?''  
''Karim Benzema,''

Leo should have seen that coming, knowing how close Karim was to Cris. ''Okay, do you have his number?''  
''No, but I'll ask Marcelo for it. He has it. I'll app him right now,''

''Thank you,''  
Angel typed his message and Marcelo replied in two seconds. ''He wants to know why someone is asking for Karim's number,''  
''I don't know, make something up,''

The slender winger sent another text and this time looked a bit more content when he got a reply. ''Got it,'' he revealed the phone to Leo, who quickly added the number to his contact list. ''Gracias por todo,'' Leo said relieved, embracing the other man tight. ''I'm sorry I haven't been there for you guys,''

Angel shrugged. ''It's okay, we're used to that,''  
''That doesn't make it okay,''

''No, no it doesn't. Now get out of here, chase your man down. We'll talk about this one the plane,''  
Leo kissed his forehead gratefully and stormed back to his own room. Kun was waiting on the bed, as he flipped through some Russian channels on TV. ''Did you get it?''  
''Well I got Benzema's number, apparently, Marcelo doesn't have a key,''

''Oh, well that call should be interesting,''

Well, _interesting_ was one way to approach it. Leo preferred to think of it as being waterboarded. He knew somehow that Karim wasn't going to make it easy for him. He was very protective of Cristiano and Leo was pretty certain that he had told him about their ''relationship,'' or lack thereof.

''Can you give me a moment alone for this?''  
Kun nodded fervently, pecked Leo's cheek and shut the door behind him, mumbling a muffled ''good luck,'' on his way out.

Leo's fingers brushed over the dial button a few times, unsure whether this was a good idea or not.  
Well, this whole big gesture thing was Kun's idea and he seldom had a good plan. Leo hesitated for a few minutes but when he realized he was wasting precious time he overcame his fear and pushed the button.

The phone rang four times before he finally got a reply. ''Hello?''  
Leo's voice caught in his throat. He hated making phone calls to people he hardly knew. Karim wasn't a stranger per se but he also wasn't a friend or even a familiar.  
''Who is this?'' the Frenchman asked again, in French this time.

''Benzema, it's Leo. Leo Messi,''  
There was a brief silence on the other side of the line. Then a burst of laughter erupted and Benzema switched to Spanish. ''Am I on the radio or something?''

''No, it's seriously Leo Messi. Don't you recognize my voice?''  
Another silence. ''I do now. How in the world did you get this number?''

''That doesn't matter right now. I'm calling because I need your help,''

Karim's voice was laced with a mixture of amusement and curiosity now. ''My help? What, do you wanna complain about how much the French team sucks with me or something? Are you so mad that they beat you that you thought I would be a good guy to vent to? What in the world could you possibly want my help for?''

''I need to borrow the key to Cristiano's house,''  
The furious reply came almost instantly. ''No, absolutely not,''

''Benzema please-''  
''NO! I don't want _you_ going anywhere near him ever again. He deserves better than you,''

Leo felt an anvil clammer onto his chest, constraining any coherent thoughts. ''I know he does. And I fucked it all up and I will hate myself for it forever. I didn't want to do it, so I'm trying to fix it now,''

''What makes you think there is anything left for you to fix?''

Now that was a complex question. One Leo had to think on long and hard. ''I don't know. There is still something there, lingering between us. We've been calling each other during this tournament and I know he still-well you know,''

''I'm not going to let you and your toxic attitude near him ever again,''  
''That's not up to you now, is it? Cris is an adult, he can make his own decisions,''

''That doesn't matter, you fucking broke his heart! How can you even think that I would help you ruin him again?''

''I only ended it because I was wrong okay? I thought it didn't mean anything to him, but I misjudged him. I know that now. I wanna fix it. Relationships are hard for me all right. I have Asperger's syndrome,'' Leo admitted, shyly. It was never easy for him to talk about his mild form of autism.

''I know, and I get that it's hard for you to understand relationships and emotions and all that, but if you think that relationships are easy for Cris then you really don't know him at all. You're not the only one with issues okay? He has insane trust issues and problems with commitment.  
But he trusted you, he was loyal to you and gave you his heart. And then you did that to him. Why would he trust you again? Why would I help you?'' Karim asked, his tone feisty and protective.

''Because I'm not going to do that to him again. Not now that I know how he really feels about me. I'm all in now. Look I get that you're trying to protect your friend but-''

Karim scoffed and interrupted him furiously. ''My friend? He's like my damn brother Leo. You hurt him and I'm coming for you. I'll string you up in the highest tree by your balls. Got it?''

''Got it,'' Leo chuckled nervously. ''I'm not kidding so you can stop laughing,'' Karim threatened.  
''I won't hurt him again, the only one who's taking the risk to get rejected here is me, not him. Can you please give me the key? I'm flying out tomorrow and I want to surprise him when he comes back,''

''This is a shit idea,'' Karim retorted. ''He hates surprises,''  
''So do I,'' Leo murmured.

''Okay,'' Karim eventually said.  
''Okay?''

''I'll help you get in, I'll text you my address so you can pick up the key,''  
''Thank you so much,'' Leo sighed, relieved.  
''You can thank me by treating him right,''  
''I will, letting him go was the stupidest thing I ever did,''

Karim coughed. ''I have to go, my kids are calling for me. I'm on vacation and I have to go to the pool. I'll make sure my housekeeper is home for the next couple of days so you can pick up the key,''

''Yeah, thanks, man. Have a nice vacation,''  
''You too. Adios,'' Karim ended the call abruptly, same as Cris always did, leaving a slightly bemused Leo behind.

 

 

A day and a half later Leo finally found himself back on Spanish soil. He landed in Madrid, rented a car and drove to Karim's place as darkness set in slowly.

He and Cris had been texting back and forth and their messages had turned from sad to open-hearted conversations, which made the flight home even longer and more taxing. Leo couldn't wait to see Cris again. It had been too long. Every day without him had been gruelling over the past couple of months.

When he arrived at Karim's place he quickly retrieved the key from a grumpy elderly lady, who quickly shooed him off as if he had been bothering her. He followed the GPS to Cris's house, opened the gate with the remote that came with the keychain and let himself into the yard.  
He hid the car in the garage, briefly glanced at the massive extravagant car collection, scoffed twice and went to the front door, carrying his suitcase out of the trunk and dragging it along to the front door.

He peeked in through the windows to make sure that the house was vacant. Cris' mom and Junior could be home, so could his brother Hugo, his agent Jose or his friend Ricky.  
The last thing he wanted was to ambush his family by letting himself in and invoking all kinds of complex questions by appearing.

But the house looked dark, silent and abandoned, and when he was sure there were no signs of life he slid the key in the door and opened it slowly.  
When he stepped inside, however, he quickly realized he had misjudged the situation. There was a suitcase standing in the hallway, one that Leo recognized as Cris'. Leo's heart sank into his stomach as he tried to recover from this unexpected setback.  
How he had beaten Leo home was beyond his understanding. It didn't matter. Leo's surprise was completely ruined.

Leo conveyed his surroundings and decided to scope out the situation, searching for the Portuguese in his own cautious pace. Cris wasn't anywhere downstairs, the exhaustion from the flight had probably forced him to go to bed early, Leo pondered. He carefully made his way up the stairs and walked the distance to Cristiano's bedroom.  
He hadn't been in this house often, they usually met on Leo's turf or wherever it was least conspicuous. But still, he recalled the way to his room.

The bedroom door was slightly open, as usual, Cris hated sleeping with the door closed and Leo peeked around the corner. And there he was. His silent, lean silhouette illumined by the dim light above the nightstand. The curls untamed by the oceans of gel for once, making him look younger and more imperfect. More human in a way. Leo loved it when he didn't do his hair. He adored Cris' wild curls. 

Cris was lying on his side as always, his jaw dangling slightly open, a tiny puddle of drool forming on his pillow.  
His breathing was heavy and slow, telling Leo that he was in a deep, much-needed sleep.

Leo almost felt bad about waking him and even contemplated taking up residence in a guest bedroom because he didn't wanna disturb or startle Cris. But he was dreaming so deep that Leo doubted that anything could wake the sleeping Portuguese. Cris looked as if he could sleep through a war.  
So instead, Leo undressed quietly, went to the bathroom to pee, drink some water and brush his teeth and then he found himself back at the bed again, anxious to get in and sleep for a century himself. He slept on his side too and Cris had always insisted on being the little spoon himself, desperate for Leo to hold onto him.

And so Leo did.  
He mustered all of his courage, praying to whatever God was listening that he wouldn't wake Cris, before pulling the duvet back and carefully lowering himself into the mattress, curling himself up on his side a few inches away from the man of his dreams.  
Cris stirred a bit but didn't wake up as expected. Leo's breath nearly stopped when he caught onto Cris' familiar scent. He was nearly overwhelmed by the memories suddenly. Jesus, how he had missed him.  
Being in such close proximity to him. Being able to touch him when he wanted to. He extended his arm and steadily moved in closer, nearly bumping Cris' shoulder blade when he folded his arm around his chest and rested it against Cris' sternum.

He then lowered his face against the silky soft skin of Cris' neck and barely suppressed a moan when he was finally fully aware of everything that had happened in the past few minutes.  
He was lying in Cristiano's bed again. Holding him in his arms as he slept. And yet it wasn't enough. Leo needed to drown himself in the older man's body. So he tangled their legs together and enlaced their fingers.

His lips had a mind of their own and automatically placed a needy kiss to the back of Cris' neck.  
The Portuguese made a whiny noise and stirred again, a little more insistent this time. Leo was now unsure whether Cris was awake or not. But he couldn't get enough of kissing Cris, not even if someone put a gun against his head and told him to stop. ''Leo, L-Leo,'' Cris suddenly groaned.

Leo knew that Cris was still asleep, he sometimes spoke in his sleep and if he had been awake he would have let Leo know. He probably thought he was dreaming this. After a long, blissful silence Leo couldn't stand it anymore, he craved for Cristiano's lips.  
So he turned the man in his arms around, bringing him so closely that their noses were touching. Cris' warm breaths landed on Leo's lips and mingled with his own. It made him light headed and more reckless.

He brushed his hand over Cris' unshaven cheek, trailed it up into his curls and leaned in to kiss him. Once, twice, forever if Cris let him.  
Leo didn't deepen the kiss, he just placed feathery soft pecks to Cris' plump lips, ignoring the tiny fragrance of morning breath he noted on Cris' lips. He didn't care. They had kissed in the mornings before they brushed their teeth many times. Leo's persistence finally woke Cris, who blinked at him a few times before his eyes believed what they were witnessing.

''Leo? What-are you-are you really here?''

Leo nodded as tears were building behind his eyes, taking ahold of Cris' hand and leading it to his chest, placing it over his heart so that Cris could hear his heartbeat. ''I'm here, I'm really here. You're not dreaming,''

Cris' lower lip started quivering and a single man tear rolled over his cheek. He brought his hands to Leo's face and cupped his cheeks gentle. Then he leaned in closer and kissed him, and not just a peck but really kissed him.  
Making Leo forget all about the dramas of the world cup, about hurting Cris and breaking up. All that mattered now, all that had ever mattered was that they were together.  
Right now Leo didn't have a care in the world. The safety of Cristiano's arms was like coming home.

 

 

 

 

 

_TBC...._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter coming up probably guys. Or maybe two. But I'm hoping one more, I should focus on my other stories that need endings and this really was just for ''fun.'' Even though I wrote some pretty heavy chapters. 
> 
> Oh well.  
> Thanks for reading this! <3

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I wrote some Cressi stuff, and I only now realized how much I missed them.  
> I'm not Leo's biggest fan, but I did felt bad for him during the Iceland game, so I tried to convey how it must feel to him when everyone's looking at you to do all the work. I hope I got it right. Leo's always a hard character to write because he's so unattainable. Complex. But I do like a challenge. 
> 
> I hope you liked it, thanks for reading! Don't be shy on telling me your thoughts! <333


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